Irresistible Force
by reststillunwritten
Summary: Moriarty has Sherlock and Irene Adler at gun point and wants to hurt and humiliate before he kills them.   MA for rape and language and sick ideas. Reviews are wanted.


Sherlock woke up feeling a little sick to his stomach and with a sharp sting in his head. His arms were tied behind his back and to the wooden chair he was on. The chair was in the middle of an empty room of an abandoned house. The walls had peeled wallpaper, the floor had broken titles and water dripped from the ceiling. There were wood boards nailed to the only widow and just a little of the afternoon sun entered the room.

Quickly he realized he wasn't alone in that room. "Guess he woke up." he heard the voice of his nemesis saying to someone else. There was movement and he saw Irene was there too.

Moriaty pushed her and made her stand in front of Sherlock's chair. From one look at her Sherlock could see what she had been through. Moriaty has probably slapped her more than once and has restrained her with some violence, probably because she had tried to escape him. She wasn't very wounded, but she looked a little scared, although her pride was trying to hide it.

"Welcome back to the land of living, Sherlock Holmes." - Moriaty said in an enthusiastic tone, getting close to the chair and waving the gun he had on his hands. "You know, there's many people who think you are dead right now. That think that both of you are dead." He turned to Irene and pointed the gun at her.

"Why aren't we?" Sherlock asked calmly.

Moriarty smiled. "Because I didn't want it. You see, Sherlock, I'm the one who has save you from horrible deaths. You own your lives to me now."

"You were the one that tried to kill us in the first place." Sherlock stated.

Moriarty tilted his head, brushing off the comment. "You did get in my way. More than once."

"You saved us so you could kill us in the private of an abandoned house." Irene spoke for the first time, in an angry tone. "Would you mind getting on with it?"

Moriarty smiled amused and move to the side of Sherlock, putting his arms around his neck and leaning on to him like confiding to a friend. "Look at her, Sherlock." He said, pointing the gun at her. "Look how beautiful she is. What do you see?"

"That you beat her up."

"I mean, besides that. Isn't she the most perfect specimen of her gender? Isn't she everything you believe a woman should be? She's feisty yet delicate, she's a filthy liar yet she has a good heart. She's obscenely sexy and yet without a hint of vulgarity. Look at her. Really look at her, Sherlock. Doesn't she look delicious?" His last question was spoken harshly like a threat.

Irene crossed her arms in front of her and looked away from the two men.

"And she's shy when there's no reason be." He completed.

"What do you want from us?" Sherlock demanded.

"You see, Sherlock, I fancy her. For some reason I can't understand, when I see her, something happens inside of me. Although she has shamelessly betrayed me, I just can't get myself to kill her. Why do you think that is?"

"Cause you're a sadistic psychopath." Irene spat.

Moriarty smile got wider and he walked in Irene's direction, circling her. "Don't you just love this accent?"

"Can you please get to the point? This preposterous public display of affection is getting boring." Sherlock said.

"Oh, you want to rush into the fun part. All right. You don't like that much foreplay either, do you, Irene?" He said that smoothly licking her neck. She moved away from him, disgusted, he held her. "Sit on his lap." He ordered.

She didn't move and looked defiantly back at him. Moriarty cocked the gun and pointed it at Sherlock. Irene sighed and walked to the chair. She was barefoot and her footsteps barely made any noise.

"Facing him." Moriarty completed.

She was wearing a short dress and it rose up when she spread her legs and sat on Sherlock's lap facing him. Sherlock body's tensed when he felt her weight on him. Seeing her face closer he could distinguish the slap marks. Those made him feel really angry. He wanted to punch Moriarty.

"Now kiss him." Moriarty ordered, getting closer to them.

"What?" she asked outraged.

Moriarty shot at the wall behind Sherlock. They both felt the bullet passing close to them. Irene jumped with the sound and put her arms around Sherlock's neck getting closer to him.

"Next time I have to repeat myself I won't miss." he said angrily. "Now kiss him."

Irene looked into Sherlock's eyes trying to see some plan to free them inside them. He just looked back at her a little embarrassed and braced himself. He remembered that kiss, the softness of her lips and he wasn't sure how he would react to that.

Many months ago, when he had let her kiss him he felt a fire burning inside him, a reaction as strong as those given by the purest of drugs. It wasn't something he couldn't rationalize or control so he shut those feelings off before they could get hold of him. Now, he was tied to a chair and unable to get away from her, and she had a gun against her head.

She leaned and pressed her lips against his in a soft short kiss. An inappropriate shiver ran through Sherlock's spine.

"Oh please. I'm sure you can do better than that. Kiss him like you mean it." Moriarty said, looking at them both like they were just dolls he was playing with.

She kissed him again, deeper, and his lips parted for her. He heard Moriarty giggle when he did that. The kiss became more intense and Sherlock's heart began to race. He was trying to control himself, but Moriarty was right. She was delicious and the way she tasted was clouding his reason. Her fingers ran through his hair and he felt that the urge to hold her was only restrained by the ropes that bound his arms.

They made out for a while and then she broke the kiss looking back at Moriarty inquiringly.

"Is he hard yet?" Moriarty asked excited.

"Are you?" Irene asked smoothly with a smirk. Sherlock realized how she looked less scared now. How shifting from violence to seduction made her more confident and in control of herself.

A wide hungry smile was his answer to her. He moved closer and Sherlock could feel his now heavy breath on his ear. "Don't you just want to ravish her?"

Sherlock felt awful. His body was reacting exactly how Moriarty wanted and that embarrassed him. She obviously could feel his excitement, how her kiss _has_ got him hard.

"If you took a Viagra probably your erection problem would be much easily resolved." Sherlock replied.

"Well, this is more fun." He said unmoved by the provocation, running his hands through Irene's hair. "Jerk him off" he ordered.

She looked away from him. She knew what he wanted and she knew he would kill them both as soon as he ended this humiliation. Maybe she should let him kill her without giving him the satisfaction.

Moriarty saw her hesitation and pressed the gun against Sherlock's head. Her eyes moved back to him.

"Don't do it." Sherlock said. He was firmly tight to a chair, unable to make any movements to prevent Moriarty from hurting her or himself. All he could do was to let her know she shouldn't allow this humiliation on her because of his well-being. He didn't care about that.

Moriarty pressed the gun harder expressing his impatience. He would not warn again.

"He'll kill me anyway." Sherlock continued. "He's only using the fact that you care about me to torture you. You don't have to do what he says."

"If you don't do what I say, I'll kill him and make you fuck his corpse." - Moriarty said very softly.

The softness of his voice scared her.

Because when he shouted it meant he was out of control, he was dominated by anger or frustration and that he would probably change his mind when he calmed down. When he said things softly, it meant he had really thought about every single word. It meant he would not take it back and that he would do exactly what he had said.

"I'm sorry." She said to Sherlock and unbuttoned his trousers. When her hands touched his already hard member he couldn't hold a moan of pleasure.

Moriarty removed the gun from Sherlock's head and stepped away from them. He wanted to see his work. Those two brilliant and unbreakable wills bent and humiliated by his power. The high from that was better than any drug, any sex he had ever had.

"Stop." He said when Sherlock moaned a little louder. He didn't want it to end yet. He wanted to enjoy that high for a while longer. After they were gone, he was sure he would have a hard time to find something else that interested him like they did.

Irene stopped but didn't look away from Sherlock.

"Take him inside you." Moriarty said with cruelty.

Irene closed her eyes for a moment, just to take hold of herself. She didn't try to hesitate or stall. She didn't want to die and didn't want Sherlock to die.

She opened her eyes again and looked at Sherlock. His bright blue eyes were a little lost. They showed embarrassment and guilt, but they also showed desire and pleasure. She moved on his lap and adjusted herself on him, without taking her eyes off of his.

An immense pleasure wave took hold of his body when he entered her. His rational mind turned completely off and he was just instinct, desire and feeling. She kissed him and he used his limited movements to try to accompany her rhythm. For the first time in his life there was absolutely no thoughts, just her warmth, her smell, her taste. Just her.

Then he felt her hands behind him, carefully untying the knots that were binding him to the chair and his brain jump-started again. He realized she had kissed him to get a better position to undo the rope without Moriarty seeing it.

Sherlock felt his brain beginning to turn off again when another wave of pleasure took hold of him. He was almost reaching the climax. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times trying to remain focused on the fact that he was almost free from the ropes. He saw Moriarty looking at them and the rage he felt helped him restrain himself a while longer.

Moriarty smiled and walked closer again, standing right in front of the chair. He still couldn't see Irene's hands undoing the ropes. He pressed the gun against the back of Irene's head. "Faster." He ordered breathless as if he was the lover.

She began to move faster and Sherlock moaned and closed his eyes, loosing it again. He wouldn't be able to hold himself much longer.

"Don't" She whispered to him. She felt him beginning to climax and panicked. She needed a few more minutes to untie him.

Moriarty's breath was as heavy as Sherlock's now as if he was having sex with them. His climax would be blow Irene's head off at the same time Sherlock would blow inside her. Like synchronized orgasms.

Sherlock opened his eyes again, blinking repeatedly but that wasn't helping anymore.

Then Irene loosed the last knot and Sherlock was free.

His first impulse was to hold her tighter and thrust harder inside her, but he didn't. She leaned back and made him look her in the eye. Focusing on those eyes he was able to put his emotions and the reactions of his body aside and regain control of his mind, which began to see everything around them. They would only have one chance to survive.

"Come on." Moriarty screamed eager.

On that cue, Irene elbowed his stomach and ducked, falling to the floor next to the chair. At the same time, Sherlock was able to push Moriarty's arm up, deviating the shot he fired to the back wall.

Moriarty was taken by surprise by this and stumbled backwards falling on the floor and dropping the gun. Sherlock stood up and reached for the gun before Moriarty was able to get it, and pointed at him.

When he realized that Sherlock had the advantage, Moriarty stood down and sighed. "That was fun." he screamed excited to Sherlock. "I'm never going to get tired of you."

Sherlock remained silent pointing the gun at him, considering his next movement. He was fighting hard to regain complete control of his body and his mind.

"Your fly is open." Moriarty said in a jocose tone.

"Kill him." Irene said nervously. She was herself trying to control her body that was shaking violently now.

"Oh yes, Sherlock. Kill me. That's what you should do now."

"Shut up." Sherlock screamed to him. He took a deep breath and continued. "Irene, pick the rope, bring it here."

"What?" She asked confused.

Moriarty smiled amused. "He's going do arrest me, love. Make me pay for all of my nasty crimes."

"No. You have to kill him." Irene said a little desperately. "He's never going to leave us alone if you let him live."

"He's not going to be able to get to us anymore. The rope."

"No." Irene stood up and walked into Sherlock's direction trying to take the gun from him. If he wasn't going to kill Moriarty she was.

When she passed in front of him, Moriarty jumped on her, pushing her towards Sherlock and giving him an advantage to run away. Irene felt on the floor and Sherlock went to help her.

"I'm fine, don't let him escape." She screamed.

Sherlock ran after Moriarty, but he had a good advantage and ran outside entering his car and driving away from there. Sherlock shot a few times on the fleeing car, but all he managed to do was to break a window and harm the fuselage.

There was no way to pursue him now. They were in the middle of a green field and there were no cars around. Sherlock screamed curses frustrated.

After sometime he returned to the house and into the room they had been.

Irene was sat on the floor holding her legs and apparently trying to stop shivering. She wasn't crying just staring blankly to the floor. Sherlock entered the room slowly.

"He's gone." He said.

Irene just closed her eyes and held her legs tighter, breathing deeply.

He approached her slowly and crouched by her side. "Are you okay?" he asked touching her head gently.

"Don't touch me." She screamed aggressively, looking at him. He saw anger and fear still in her eyes and knew those feelings were directed to him. She was angry with him and she was afraid of him. He pulled his hand and stood up, stepping back.

Sherlock didn't know how to continue.

"I'm sorry." He said after sometime. It was the only thing that he could think of.

"Get out of here. Leave me alone." She screamed again, without looking at him this time.

He did what she said - that was the only thing he could do - and stepped out of the room.

Walking outside the abandoned house he saw a phone booth a few minutes walk into the road. He went there and called John, gave him the direction to where he was and asked him to come.

After that, he checked the rest of the house, sat on the porch and waited for him.

John arrived forty minutes later in a cab. He looked worried and happy at the same time that Sherlock was alive.

"Thank God you're okay. What happened?" - John had considered hugging Sherlock but since the man had just acknowledge his arrival with a shift in his stare and looked serious like someone has just died, he restrained himself from showing any sign of affection.

"Irene Adler is upstairs in the first room to the right. Please, go check on her." - Sherlock said calmly without looking at John.

"Irene? Jesus. Is she all right?"

"You are the doctor."

John rushed upstairs and entered the room Sherlock had indicated. Irene was still sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. John called for her and she looked at him a little surprised.

"Are you okay?" he asked crouching by her side.

She didn't answer just threw her arms around him and started to cry copiously. He sat on the floor, holding her and let her cry shushing her and saying that everything would be all right.

After sometime she calmed down and he just held her silently until she wasn't crying anymore, just resting her head on his chest and clinging to his arm. He pulled her head up and looked at it.

He could see the bruises from the slaps but no visible wound.

"I must be hideous." she said looking embarrassed to him

John smiled and wiped her tears with his hands. "I think that's impossible." She smiled sadly.

He checked the rest of her body, there were some bruises, but there was no visible blood or wound anywhere. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" She just shook her head.

"Irene, look at me?" He said pulling her head up again and taking her hair off her face. "I need to know if there's any pain anywhere."

She smiled sadly. "I'm fine, doctor." John didn't believe her. She could be physically okay, but she was not fine.

"What happened?" he asked.

She just laid her head back onto his chests and made him hold her again. "Moriarty happened." She said after a while.

"Did he hurt you?"

She sighed. "That's what he does, isn't it? He hurts people."

"What did he do to you?"

Her body tensed again and she held him tighter, but didn't say anything.

After a while she sat up and took a deep breath.

"I don't want to talk about it, John." She said, more confident almost looking like the Irene he knew. "I want to leave this place." She stood up and pulled him up too and walked out of the room with him.

Sherlock was still in the same position John had seen him when he arrive. When he saw Irene followed he stood up, but didn't say a word.

"Right. Shall we call a cab?" Irene said once she was outside. She barely looked at Sherlock and he noticed that.

"Yes, yes. I'll call for one." John said and took his cell phone.

He walked away from the porch to get a better reception. Irene and Sherlock were left alone for a moment, and it was awkward. Sherlock wanted to say something but didn't know what he could say, and he was afraid she would react aggressively again to anything he said. He wanted her to make the first move, to say something to him; anything at all would be better than that avoided look and that silence.

John got back and said the taxi would take ten minutes and they would have to wait. He sat on the porch and Irene sat next to him, resting her head on John's shoulder.

Even though John insisted on taking her to a hospital for a more through check, she said all she wanted was to go back to her hotel and take a good long bath. Slowly she was beginning to look and sound more like the usual Irene.

They left her in her hotel and headed for 221b Baker Street. When they entered their flat John broke the silence. "Okay. Tell me what happened."

Sherlock looked at him and sighed. "Moriarty took us there to kill us. We managed to break free and fight back and we almost got him, but he escaped." Sherlock said sullenly.

"That's not all of it." John said. Sherlock looked at him inquiring. "Why was she in that state of nerves when I got there? What have he done to her?"

Sherlock didn't answer just moved towards his room. He too wanted to take a hot shower.

"Did he rape her?" John asked directly.

"Did she tell you anything?" Sherlock asked nervously.

"Oh please. I am a doctor. There are clear signs. Her bruises, her nerves, and the way she doesn't want to talk about it. A woman as strong willed as Irene Adler. There are very few things I could think off that could break her like that. So did Moriarty rape her?"

"No." Sherlock said.

John was a little surprised by that answer. "Then what did he do to her?"

"If she didn't tell you I'm going to respect her privacy." Sherlock said serious.

"What did he do to _you_?" John asked even more concerned about that answer.

Silence was Sherlock's answer and John decided not to insist on the interrogation. He knew his friend well enough to realize he wouldn't say anymore now.

The silence remained for the next two days and it was only broken by dark music from the violin. He was particularly concentrated on a Stravinsky aria on the afternoon of the second day when he suddenly stopped and looked out the window nervously.

"What is it?" John asked.

Before Sherlock could say anything there was a knock on the door and they heard Mrs. Hudson opening it. Sherlock put the violin down on the table and stood seriously facing the door of the flat with his hands behind his back. He looked like a man waiting for the police to come and get him John thought, but not as a consultant this time, as a criminal.

For John's surprise, the person who entered the flat wasn't DI Lestrade as he expected for Sherlock's reaction. It was Irene Adler. John stood up too, when he saw her.

She looked gorgeous in tight black jeans and high heel black boots with a white flimsy T-shirt and a blue leather jacket. Her hair was up and a perfect make up hid all signs of bruises John knew were still there.

She had a radiant smile on her face when she entered and saw him staring seriously at her.

"Hello, boys." she said lightly. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, no." John said, as Sherlock didn't show any sign he would break his vow of silence so soon. "Sherlock was just playing the violin, I was reading the paper. How are you?"

"I'm fine, doctor. Stop worrying about me."

"I would stop worrying if did what I said." he pause and considered his next phrase. "Or if the two of you told me what happened."

She tilted her head a bit and looked at Sherlock.

"Leaving the country won't keep him away from you." Sherlock said and John was surprised of how clear his voice sounded even if he hadn't used it in two days.

Her smiled faded a bit, but not completely.

"You're leaving the country?" John asked disappointed with that information. He hoped Sherlock was wrong this time, but knew it was unlikely.

"Yes, John. I'm going back to the states. A friend of mine offered me a job in a company in Chicago. It's a small part in a play, but I guess I'm going to lay low for a while."

John thought that very strange. Like Sherlock she didn't like to lay low. She enjoyed the game as much as he did. Even though sometimes they were in opposite sides of the board. That made him even surer that whatever happened to them when they were captive by Moriarty was something that affected her deeply.

"When are you leaving?" He asked.

"Tonight." She said moving in his direction. "I'm on my way to the airport, but I had to come and say goodbye to you. My best friend here in London." She held John's hand and looked him in the eye. "Thank you for everything you did for me while I was here. You risked your life more than once and were completely sweet always."

John felt his face burning and he was sure he was blushing. "Oh, I didn't..."

"You are a very good man and a wonderful friend." She said kissing him on the cheek and hugging him.

"And you are an exceptionally strong, beautiful and graceful woman." John said a little sad to say goodbye to her.

"Can I ask one last favor of you?" she said.

"Anything."

"Can you give me and Sherlock a few minutes alone?"

John felt a little bad to not be included in the conversation, but realized they had their reasons. "I won't see you when I get back, will I?" he said grabbing his coat.

"I guess not."

"Well, have a nice trip then and send us news from the states, okay?" he said, hugging her one last time and leaving the flat.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments when they were finally alone.

"John thinks I was raped." she said breaking the silence and looking straight at him.

"He's right."

"No, he's not."

"You were forced into intercourse."

She snorted. "By that definition you were raped too."

"That's different."

"Is it?" She said and looked away trying to control herself. She would not let those feeling take control of her again and she would not cry.

Sherlock noticed her struggle and felt a sharp sting of guilt inside him.

"I..." He began trying to say something meaningful. "I'm sorry." That phrase again was all he could say.

She sighed. "You don't have to be." She said walking in his direction. "I know you would never hurt me like that."

"But I did."

"No, you didn't. If anyone raped me it was he."

"I was the one inside you."

She tilted her head again and smiled standing very close to him. She pulled his arms from behind his back and held his hands. Her touch made a shiver ran down his spine again like his body has been given an electric charge. He hated himself for not being able to control that.

"I don't blame you, okay? You were tied to a chair, there was nothing you could have done."

"I could have controlled myself." he looked away ashamed.

"Oh please. You are a brilliant man, Sherlock, but you are still a man. And although you like to deny that, your body has needs too."

"I didn't take any pleasure in hurting you."

"Ah, you took some. I was there." She said ironically with a smile.

"This isn't funny." He said aggressively raising his tone.

"No, it isn't. I'm sorry for saying it in that way." She said and now her smile was completely gone.

"You know, you're not very different from him on that matter. You shut yourself from relationships because you know the power physical pleasure has to stray you from your mind. He used to say that sex made his mind shut off."

"I'm not like him." He said aggressively again.

"No, you're not, and you don't have to blame yourself for what happened. I don't." She smiled again, but her eyes were very sad. "I blame myself for meddling with brilliant dangerous men."

In that moment Sherlock forgot his guilt for a moment and realized how hurt she really was.

"That's why I'm going back home. This island has too many dangers for me."

"He will find you."

"If he wants to, of course he will. But I know him, and he thinks anywhere outside the British Kingdom is uncivilized, so I have better chances away from here." She said.

"And he'll want to get us both, so you're chances are even better if you're away from me." He said, sadly too.

"I guess." She said and her smile got sad like her eyes. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again the sadness was vanished like she had ordered it away. Her smile was fresh and lovely again. "I had to come and say goodbye to you and tell you everything was fine between us. For me, at least. I hope it is fine for you too."

Sherlock nodded and smiled too. She kissed him briefly on the lips but before he could react to that kiss she broke it off and stepped away from him.

"Hope to see you again someday, Sherlock Holmes." She said moving to the exit door.

"If you ever break the law again, you might." He said playfully.

She looked back at him, surprised by his remark. "Don't worry, I'll be a good girl from now on." She said teasingly with a grin.

"I hope you won't." He said watching her walking down the stairs and knowing he would miss her terribly.


End file.
